


love & loss

by transpeterparker (robertmontauk)



Series: lines don't have ends [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drawing, Exposition, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertmontauk/pseuds/transpeterparker
Summary: So. Now they’re here, in a tiny one-bedroom apartment a couple blocks east of the Brooklyn Bridge, in a neighborhood with the most queers east of Greenwich. Sharing a room, and a bathroom, and a kitchen, and a living-dining-office type room. It’s everything Bucky had been dreaming of, and he can’t even get the goddamn chance to enjoy it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: lines don't have ends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541914
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	love & loss

**Author's Note:**

> hey kids! welcome to the first segment of LDHE!
> 
> this story has been in the works for a WHILE now (since february, to be exact), and i'm very excited to be publishing this now. 
> 
> hope you all enjoy!

It’s been a couple of months since Momma - Miss Sarah Rogers, as most other people knew her - died.

It seems wrong, almost, that after everything Momma’s been through, it was the tuberculosis that eventually got her.

(Bucky had tried everything he could think of - lit rosemary in Momma’s room, knelt and prayed next to her bed (only the one time - holding Steve’s rosary felt too wrong), helped Steve with filling baths and getting water and buying jars of honey for tea whenever he could get his hands on it. He even spoke with Rabbi Joseph almost every day, that week, and Ma hadn’t even tried to stop him. He probably shouldn’t have, in retrospect - Rabbi Joseph almost definitely knows something’s wrong with how attached Bucky is to Steve and Momma - but it’s too late to change anything now.)

He knows it’s bad, but Bucky can’t help being grateful Momma was the one who passed, not Steve. Those few weeks before when Stevie had been sick - not with tuberculosis, with scarlet fever, which wasn’t as bad but still so, so worrying - had been the worst of Bucky’s life. Steve couldn’t get out of bed on his own, and Momma had to cover too many shifts to help, so Bucky ended up staying home most days to take care of him. He’d always known Steve was sickly - he’d been catching colds left and right ever since they met - but it was one thing to know that, and another to see him on death’s door and be terrified he might step over.

He knows it was worse for Stevie, though. Not catching the fever - Steve’s been dealing with sickness all his life, by this point he’s pretty much used to it - but having to watch his mother go through almost exactly what he had most of his life and fail to survive? It tore Steve apart. He was wracked with guilt, and what made it even worse was that Bucky could understand why. 

And Bucky hated to even think about it, and he’d never dare say it to Steve, but.

But nothing, really. 

It’s over now - Momma’s resting, wherever she went, and all they can do is grieve and tell themselves she went to someplace better than the shithole they’re all in.

Grieving is hard, Bucky gets that - Ma went through a miscarriage and a stillbirth before they got Annie, and losing Emma and Aidan still gets to him when he lets himself think about it. Steve, though. It almost seems like Steve’s just… drifting, really.

Bucky hasn’t said anything to him about it; to be honest, he’s mostly just grateful Steve agreed to live with him at all. He's not gonna lie - there’d been a couple of weeks there right after Momma’s funeral where Steve had flat out refused to move in, and it had driven Bucky  _ crazy _ . He didn’t really sleep, during those days, too busy tossing and turning to the thought of Steve, alone in that tiny apartment that feels far too big without Momma’s spirit filling it up.

It had taken Winifred Barnes herself - with a personality louder than her voice - to finally shake some sense into Steve’s odd sensibilities. She filled up that apartment to bursting without even flinching and took joy in reminding Steve about the family he’d been ignoring in his grief-fueled isolation.

There was a sort of smug satisfaction, Bucky can admit, in seeing Steve get chewed out by the woman who was basically his mother at this point. He got to see the expressions on Steve’s face - righteous indignation when Ma started to yell… slack-jawed surprised when the first tear dripped down Ma’s face, followed by another, and another… 

And Steve can’t help it, really - he’s a sympathetic crier, always has been, especially with Ma. Bucky can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he’s seen her cry, so he was almost as shocked as Steve was when Ma’s voice had started to shake.

She’d gotten over it soon, though - gathered herself together in that certain sort of way he’s only ever seen her do, grabbed Stevie by the ear, and told him to pack up his stuff.

He did, obviously. He’s not an idiot.

At that point, Ma’s relatives in Europe had been talking for a while about coming over to America. The whole Hitler business is frightening for everyone over there, not just the Jews, but it doesn’t help that they’re the ones being blamed. Something dangerous is about to happen, and everybody knows it.

It wasn’t until recently, though, that Ma had been able to save up some money to sponsor their immigration. Four kids under one roof is a hell of a lot to take care of, so Bucky had officially dropped out of school (not like he had been going much before that, anyway - he’d been taking shifts down at the docks since he was fourteen and they went four days without anything but beans and bread to pave the way) and got his own place. 

It was a little tenement in Gairville, just big enough to fit him and Becca and not much else - except Stevie, maybe, who was small enough to share Bucky’s bed without people saying much of anything, (not that they would, in a place like this), who ended up moving in with the both of them.

So. Now they’re here, in a tiny one-bedroom apartment a couple blocks east of the Brooklyn Bridge, in a neighborhood with the most queers east of Greenwich. Sharing a room, and a bathroom, and a kitchen, and a living-dining-office type room. It’s everything Bucky had been dreaming of, and he can’t even get the goddamn chance to enjoy it.

“Steve?” he calls, noting the hunch in Steve’s posture and the way he keeps flexing his fingers - subconsciously, as if he’s been working for too long but hasn’t realized it yet.

He doesn’t look up, just hums and picks up the pencil-type-thing laying by his waist. 

Bucky sighs. This is Steve on one of his good days - too wrapped up in whatever he’s doing to notice anything around him.

Bucky thinks maybe he’d have more energy to be annoyed by the shit Stevie pulls if he wasn’t so hopelessly gone on him. 

He leans against the wall, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. 

Shit like that only gets more dangerous the more you think about it.

“Stevie?”

Steve looks up, eyes unfocused and squinting, from where he’s hunched over the old desk in the living room/dining room/kitchen (when Bucky says they don’t have a lot of room, he  _ means  _ it). “Hey, Buck,” he says, setting down his pencil.

“Y’know, one day your back’s gonna get stuck like that, and no braces or stretching is gonna be able to fix it.” Bucky crosses over to where he’s sitting, grabbing the other stool and plopping himself down.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning over the back of the chair and groaning softly as his spine pops. “Yeah, yeah - tell me something I don’t know, why don’t you?”

“Well, it’s one AM, for starters.” Steve jumps, a little bit, obviously surprised at the time.

“What?” Bucky nods, a small smile on his face. “But - shit. I could’ve sworn we just had dinner…”

“Mmm… yeah, around four hours ago. C’mon buddy, let’s get to bed.” Bucky presses a hand to the small of Steve’s back and pushes lightly, feeling almost no resistance as Steve lets his body go limp.

“I don’t want to,” he says mulishly, closing his eyes against the weight of Bucky’s stare.

He rolls his eyes. “Hoo boy. Yeah, no, we’re not doing this. We’ve both got early days tomorrow.” In one smooth motion, he lifted Steve out of the chair, bending to slide an arm under his knees and lifting him up with nothing so much as even a grunt.

(Steve weighs approximately a pound - it doesn't feel like there's anything to lift, really.)

Steve doesn't even fight it, he's too tired; he just curls up a little bit more, huffs a sigh into Bucky's chest, folds his arms over his own. "I could walk, y'know."

"Yeah, I know, but you won't if you don't have to, so I may as well carry you." Bucky stands up fully and walks to the bedroom, shifting Steve's weight in his arms to turn out the light. 

"Ugh... I gotta finish my project - art class t'morrow, you know that -"

“I gotta say, I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference. I mean - you know Jenny loves you, right? I don’t really think she’s gonna care all that much about whether my eyes are the right shade of gray.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m well aware, asshole. Sorry if I’m not tryna slack off for this class - she’s already letting me in for cheaper than she should, I don’t want to take advantage of her.”

Bucky dumps him on the bed, tugging off Steve’s pants and shirt. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Steve huffs out a long sigh, sinking into the mattress. He rolls over. “Mmmf.”

“Uh-huh.”

Steve shoves an arm out, flailing it around until Bucky grabs it, and then he pulls (with a surprising amount of strength, considering the size of him) Bucky into bed. “G’night,” he says. 

He twists as Bucky watches, not moving, just watching Steve make himself comfortable. Eventually, they end up so that Steve’s back is facing him, pressed all along his front, knees curled up somewhere by his chest.

Bucky huffs out a breath, smiling helplessly. “Night, Stevie.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos help me thrive <3
> 
> please make sure to subscribe to the SERIES - this is a oneshot! (oneshot? is that the term? i haven't posted in a while, y'all.) other updates will be posted as separate works in the series.


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